The Fountain of Youth
by ClaraDee
Summary: *midlife crisis challenge* Henry is coming to realise that he is not the man he once was and longs to restore his youth. How will he cope with his vivacious young wife, his virile friends and the realisation that he has betrayed those who loved him most? And why does he keep seeing Anne Boleyn? Is he being stalked by her doppleganger? A ghost? Or is she a vision to warn him?
1. An Aged King

**Disclaimer:** All characters are the property of Showtime's The Tudors.

 **Author's Note:** This fiction was inspired by **s** **altandsea's** Midlife Crisis challenge and will be a short story. I may have not followed the requirements religiously but I hope it's enough to satisfy. Please enjoy and feel free to give feedback. I won't bite you for being honest :)

Happy Writing

ClaraD

* * *

 **February 1541, Hampton Court**

There was a rat-a-tat-tat at the door that informed King Henry that his guest had finally arrived.

He had been sitting in his study for the past hour when he decided that he wanted a little company. And what more delightful company could he acquire than that of his charming young wife.

"Enter!" Henry commanded and the usher entered the room, falling into such a low bow that Henry observed his nose was almost touching the floor. He could not help but chuckle a little at the spectacle, but managed to straighten his face by the time the young fellow stood tall again. After all, he had a game to play and he knew he couldn't fall at the first hurdle. He needed to retain a perfectly stoic composure.

"The Queen is here to see you, Your Majesty" he announced, and Henry solemnly inclined his head as answer that he would receive her.

Queen Katherine skulked unceremoniously over the room's threshold, not quite confident enough to enter the room but not bold enough to outright defy the King and leave him to his own devices. In truth, she was a little frightened of him, and it didn't help that he seemed to be wearing a face of thunder.

"Your Majesty summoned me?" Katherine managed to pipe up, her voice squeaking a little higher than usual.

"I did" was Henry's blunt response and he beckoned his wife towards him with a simple gesture of his hand.

Katherine was still unsure what had caused this very sudden assembly with the her husband. Her mind was racing. Had Henry found out about her disreputable past? About Mannox and Dereham? Or God forbid, her blossoming friendship with Thomas Culpepper. Oh, who was she kidding? It was more than just a friendship, it was love. She was in love with a man who was not her husband and now she feared for her life.

For her husband was not just any man. He was a King. A King with a most infamous reputation.

He had cast off his loyal and faithful first wife of 24 years on a whim, and banished her to live in poverty for the rest of her short life.

He had his second wife, Katherine's own dear cousin, arrested on trumped allegations and did not spare her the executioner's sword.

In his desperation for a male heir, he neglected his third wife's post natal health and allowed her to die from childbed fever.

And his fourth wife was shamed and humiliated all throughout their short and miserable seven months of marriage.

Katherine was now wife number five and privately she dreaded to think what fate awaited her. She knew she was playing with fire but she could not help it. The King could be the most generous, kind hearted and jovial man in all of Christendom when the mood took him. But when it did not, he was truly foul and was not one to be toyed with.

It seemed everything made him foul and odious these days.

His sore, weeping ulcer made him irritable and quick to anger. Katherine always tried her best to comfort him during these painful episodes, but the stench was too much for her. It smelt like rotting meat and made her heave until her stomach cramped. His eyes were failing him and he would always complain about the lack of light, often hitting the bumbling page who rushed to make his master more comfortable. He hated the fact that he was not as spritely as he once was. He could not joust or wrestle, it even pained him to walk up the stairs. He had to be lynched on to his horse any time that he wanted to ride and hunt, and you could see the poor beast wince as the heavy load was propped on to its back. Even then he would bemoan his horse for being slow and whip it into a frenzy in hope that it would make haste.

This is why she found Tom such a breath of fresh air. He was noble and brave, handsome and young, athletic and passionate. He was everything a young man ought to be and she worshipped the ground that he tread on. And the more she fell in love with Tom, the more revolting Henry became in her eyes.

It took all her will power to avoid staring at the mass of folding fleshing that he had become.

"Katherine Howard" he boomed, her name echoing throughout the room, "I have something here that incriminates you of a great crime" he announced.

Katherine nearly fainted on the spot!

She felt dizzy. She was going to be sick. Her heart was racing, it was almost as if there was a frightened animal locked in her chest and it was frantically trying to escape. Her throat was dry! She tried to speak but no words would come out. She fell to her knees in shock. She did not care that the fall had caused her to bash her knees on the hard, stone floor. What were knees when you didn't have a head?

"Oh please...y-y-y-your Majesty... if I...I...have done any...th-th-th-thing to offend... you...then I...I am..." she began to sob, clutching her hands together in hopes of appealing for his mercy. She could barely contain herself, nor string a sentence together coherently. There was so much sobbing and sniffling and spluttering that Henry was rather sorry he had gone so far in his little prank, though privately he was quite proud he had managed to convince his wife of his seriousness and congratulated himself upon his superb acting ability.

Now was the time to reveal his little joke, but he would not drop the charade just yet.

"Silence!" he commanded, and after a pathetic sniffle, Katherine managed to cease her sobbing. "Come hither and examine the evidence presented before you!"

She rose from her knees, tears still streaming down her face, and came to the King table. He pushed a black velvet box before her and indicated that she should open it. Cautiously, and dreading what she might find, she opened the box to reveal the contents lurking inside.

It was a pendent.

A beautiful pendent of emeralds, diamonds and rubies that twisted together to concoct a fantastic replica of a red Tudor rose hanging from a chunky gold chain.

"Your Majesty?" Katherine puzzled, furrowing her brow deeply as though she did not understand what was happening before her.

"Katherine Howard, I hereby charge you with stealing the King's heart. A most serious offence. And your punishment? That you have to wear this necklace every day for as long as you may live" he laughed heartily, lifting himself up from his seat so he could tie the thing around her pretty little neck and kiss her upon cheek.

Katherine was bewildered. She didn't know what to think.

"Oh Henry" she gushed, unsure whether she could cry from the torture he had put her through or laugh at the beauty of the jewels before her. But as soon as the cool jewels was pressed up against her breast she decided to take the whole ordeal in good humour. Even if it had made her age twenty years in just 3 minutes.

She had soon settled down and all the tears had been wiped from her face. Now she was sat upon Henry's lap and they were whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears.

"Are you happy, Katherine?" he asked after tickling her beneath her chin with his quill.

"Oh yes, your Majesty. So very happy" she beamed a dazzling smile at him, but her puffy and watery eyes betrayed her. She had tried her best to sound sincere but he noted the muscles around her mouth twitch as she tried her best to keep up a smile of pretences. He knew she was lying to him, although he thought it more out of kindness than deception.

"And you don't mind being married to an old fool like me?" he continued.

"Oh Henry!" she mocked outrage at such a comment, "you are not old and you are certainly not a fool" she chided playfully, stroking his arm in a comforting manner and playing with the shiny, golden buttons that adorn his sleeves.

"I am old enough to be your father" he reminded her, but Katherine scoffed.

"You are young enough to be my lover and that is all I could wish for" was her suggestive reply, licking her lips seductively before she dove into the crevice of his neck and began planting it with tender, succulent kisses. Her hand slowly began to snake its way down to her codpiece but before she could reach it, Henry knocked it away.

She pulled away and looked at him with wounded doe eyes, her lips trembling for fear she had angered or offended him.

But Katherine's tenderness only reminded him of his past prowess and how his current body was betraying him in the most humiliating of ways.

He used to make love to his first Catherine, his darling Spanish Infanta, every night and yet still have the stamina to carry on with one of his mistresses. With Anne, their passionate love making was so wild and ferocious that they would often wake up the next day as bruised as a battered apple. Even though he was in his mid 40s when he married his beloved Jane, neither of them were prudes in the privacy of the bedchamber and they would love each other deep into the early hours of the morning.

But with this Katherine, he could barely keep up with her. He had neither the stamina, nor the virility, nor even the will to compete with her drive. And it wasn't for want of trying.

Katherine was the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes upon. She had an abundance of thick, auburn hair that cascaded over her ivory shoulders, a pair of mischievous grey eyes that were both intense and yet inviting all at the same time. She was pleasantly petite and lithe, he could sweep her up in his arms in one easy scoop. And her body? Even thinking of it now made Henry stir. Pert breasts, a plump backside and the most enchanting little enigma he had ever encountered.

So how come God would not grant him the ability to make love to this beautiful, tempting creature?

He felt like a failure and for the first time in his life he considered himself as an old man.

"Not tonight" he told her as gently as he could, summoning her to come and lie in the crook of his arm. She obeyed and snuggled into the folds of his crimson doublet and pressed her head against his chest. She could hear it beating through the fabric and its dull thudding lulled her into a light snooze.

He leant down and kissed her on the forehead.

This would have to suffice for now, he thought, nursing memories of his golden youth.

* * *

Three days later and Henry was itching for excitement and adventure.

The more he lamented upon his youth, the more he wanted to recreate it. And by God, when Henry Tudor had an idea in his head, he acted upon it.

He had decided that in the next few months he was going to hold a great jousting tournament, one so great that it would be recorded as being the most magnificent and spectacular tournament ever held. He, naturally would be the star of the show, and he was determined that he would compete in at least one match a day.

But he wasn't just focused on jousting, oh no! There would be falconry, archery and tennis too. He also planned on holding majestic banquets every night, fully accompanied by masquerade balls and dancing. He had made it his personal mission to dance every dance with a different woman and he would stay awake until two into the morning, and only then he would retire in order to take his beautiful wife to bed and make love to her for hours at a time. They would both be admired and adored by everyone and the whole world would see how virile and athletic the King of England was. Not the fat old man that they were all secretly accusing him of being.

He just needed to get in shape for it first.

And he thought he would begin his new fitness regime by going hunting with his best friend, Charles Brandon.

"How is your wife, Charles?" Henry asked as he busied himself loading his windlass with fresh arrows. He had wasted six of them already due to his unsteady arm and poor eyesight, but he hadn't the nerve to give up just yet.

"She is well" Charles informed, "Very well in fact. She is expecting again" he started grinning like an idiot, obviously proud of his virility and fertility.

A sudden chill overcame Henry that dampened his spirit and hopes.

"She is with child?" he repeated bitterly.

It seemed that Charles had all the luck. Despite the fact that Charles was a little older than him, he acted as though he were still twenty years younger. He was spritely, lively and still in tip top athletic shape. Sure he had his stumbles and he did not joust as well as he used to, but he was still a fine specimen of a man and his salt and pepper hair made him even more desirable in the eyes of women.

And now God had decided to grace him with the blessing of another child? It stung all the more when he realised that he was unlikely to impregnate Katherine any time soon due his seeming impotence. It pained him to even consider that the problem lay with him and not with her.

"I am happy for you" he lied, forcing his mouth into a smile that was strained and insincere. A fact that was not lost on Brandon. He was older and wiser and had more experience dealing with deception. He knew when to flatter the King, when to lie to him, when to champion and nurture his ventures, and most importantly, when to listen his ramblings.

"Tell me what is bothering you?" he encouraged.

"Nothing. Just age catching up with me" he dismissed as he cocked his weapon and rested it upon his lap, ready to go off in search for deer once more. But Charles wasn't about to give up that easily.

"You are as young as you feel" Charles smirked, hoping to prompt him into a deeper conversation.

"I don't feel young any more" was Henry's tart reply and he let his chin drop into his chest as ran his hand through his silver hair. He hated having to be so vulnerable in front of others, especially in front of a stud like Brandon. It was humiliating to have to admit that he was starting to feel his age and his body no longer worked as well as it used to.

Deep down, he knew his plans for the tournament and everything it represented was a lost cause. He would never be capable of withstanding such pressures on his now frail and decrepit body. It was difficult enough to hunt on horseback with his servants assisting him. And he hadn't shot one damned thing yet, though Charles and Thomas Culpepper had each brought a stag down unaided.

"Nonsense! You have a young wife who you couple with every night and..." but he was cut off by the a wave of a hand. Henry could no longer bear to hear any more.

"I cannot find the inspiration to couple with her any more" he shamefully proclaimed, his voice just above a whisper so that none of his other men could hear them.

Charles was a little shocked at this revelation and knew he had to tread carefully. One wrong word and he would lose the King's confidence and respect for ever. He didn't want to wound his ego, and especially not his dignity.

"Perhaps the Queen is not as pleasing as you would have hoped" he rationalised though truthfully he knew this was a lie. Every man at court admired pretty little Katherine Howard and if she had not been selected by the King he would have hoped to have had her in his own bed before now. "Have you tried to couple with another?" he enquired in hopes of laying the blame on someone else's door.

"No" Henry admitted, for he had become so despondent with his impotence that his lust for women had seemed to dissipate.

"Leave it with me. I will find you a fine young filly who will get the blood coursing through you veins. You will see you have nothing to worry about" Charles reassured him and for the first time Henry was filled of renewed hope.

He always knew he could rely on Charles. He could tell him his greatest fears, his darkest desires, his most humiliating secrets, and he would not laugh or judge him. He would listen attentively and offer impartial, practical advice. He was his rock and he knew that he could never do without him. He shot him a smile of gratitude and thanked him for his help.

They had a good hunt that day, having shot four stags and two deers (although Henry could only manage to kill a bird who stumbled into his crossfire, much to the amusement of everyone present) as well as flushing out a small colony of rabbits with their dogs. On the journey back, all Henry could think of was the young lady that Charles was certain would stir his passions. He did not intend to have a mistress with Katherine, for he adored every last inch of her, but if the young lady in question could help revitalise him, he would have to resign himself to it. He would not love her but would use her as a necessity to restore his passions. Who knows, she could even help restore his potency to such a level that he could love Katherine the way she ought to be loved.

That night he dreamed of buxom blondes, ravishing red heads and beautiful brunettes.

He was sure his mystery lady would be just the tonic he needed.

He could not wait to dip his toe into the fountain of youth once more.


	2. Encounters

_A few days later..._

Henry was sat in his privy chamber with only his psalter and a fire for company. The logs crackled as they burned and emitted the most wonderful aroma of winter berries and cinnamon. He realised one of his servants must have hidden herbs within the fireplace in order to freshen the room and privately thanked him for his good sense.

It was delightful.

The atmosphere was so soothing and pleasant upon his senses that he slowly but surely started to doze off in his arm chair.

But suddenly he awoke with a start as the chamber door swung open and the Duke of Suffolk was presented before him.

"Charles!" Henry greeted warmly, flying out of his seat with great gusto in order to embrace his friend with an almighty bear-like hug.

It had only been a matter of days since he had last seen Charles but it felt like a life time to him. He was becoming all to aware that the day seemed to linger longer nowadays in his older years and that one day felt like a year.

"Your Majesty" Charles reciprocated, feeling rather snug within Henry's embrace, his folds of fat acting as a soft cushion.

"Tell me Charles, is there any news on the woman you promised me?" he eagerly enquired and Charles could not help but chuckle a little as he took a seat by the fireplace, pouring himself a goblet of delicious claret as he kicked his boots off and tried to warm up from the bitter frost outside.

"She will be attending tonight's feast. Oh Henry, she really is so beautiful" he laughed, knowing that his friend would adore the young creature he had in mind. He prided himself on his excellent taste in women and this young filly really was a fine specimen of womanhood.

"Tell me about her" Henry commanded, leaning forward to hang on to his every word.

It was like she was already a tonic for his poor nerves, an aphrodisiac to inspire life into him once more.

"Well she is pleasantly tall, by far the tallest lady at your court" Charles began to relay and Henry was immediately hooked, "She is very fair, almost as fair as dear Queen Jane, with creamy white skin and honey coloured hair. Her eyes are like lakes; crystal clear and as blue as the sky. She is pleasantly buxom but not excessively so. And she is naturally graceful and elegant without any air of pretension" he recited off by heart and Henry could feel himself falling in love with her already.

She sounded like a goddess.

Perhaps a little too good to be true?

"And how is it that I have never seen this lady before?" he enquired suspiciously. After all, he remembered the Anne of Cleves affair and he was well aware of how deceptive his friends and advisers could be when they had an agenda of their own to fulfil.

"She is French, though her mother is Florentine, and she has been raised amongst the courts in Paris and Florence"

"French born and Florentine blood? She must have very pretty manners indeed" Henry announced, quite impressed. But a slight shiver overcame him as he considered her French education.

A previous wife of his, one who he cared to forget about, had spent her youth in France and had been educated in the French ways. She may have been born an English lady but she was French through and through, with her lilted Parisian accent, her stylish clothes and her graceful manners. Yet she also had all the arrogance of a Frenchman.

She was tempestuous, outspoken and wilful. She had a belly full of fire and was passionate in everything she did. It was wonderful and exhausting all at the same time. She was a breath of fresh air, so very different to all other women at court who were stiff and shy and wilting.

But whilst he had originally found these qualities about her appealing, they soon lost their charm when they became lovers.

Tempestuousness soon turned into moodiness and hysteria.

Her outspokenness quickly escalated into nagging.

Not long after, her wilfulness transformed into obstinateness.

He soon learned that these were not the qualities he wanted in a companion or wife.

Were these common French traits?

He thought of his arch nemesis and rival, King Francois of France, and found he could easily apply these flaws upon him. The French always had a reputation for being difficult and conceited. Would this French lady be the same?

"Her name is Cecilia Roquefort, daughter of the Comte du Valencay. Her mother, Francesca, is kin of the Medici"

But perhaps her beauty would be enough to ignore these flaws? And who was he to impose judgement upon a woman he had never met before? She could be the new love of his life for all he knew! Not that he needed a new love. He was content with his little Katherine. He just needed to see if he could rouse his passions with another.

She was just the means to an end.

"She sounds most agreeable. I would like to meet with her at once" he declared.

Charles nodded his head.

"I will bring her to be introduced once the supper is over" he decreed and together the two men raised their goblets together and clinked them together, toasting to good luck and good health, chuckling with giddy pleasure as they did so.

* * *

 _Later that evening..._

The great hall was aglitter with sparkling silverware sitting upon the pale azure table runners that shimmered like running water. The walls were adorn with majestic tapestries of blue and white, embroidered with the finest golden silk thread. The frost stained windows glistened. The courtiers danced themselves warm or else gossiped around the crackling logs of the fire place sipping upon mulled wine and cider.

Everyone was of good cheer and picking at the hot meats from the banqueting table. A buffet was presented with the most delicious looking foods. Roast pheasants, venison, two very large hogs, goose, swan. The centre piece was amazingly decadent. Sweet meats, winter fruit pies, marzipan, roasted nuts and warmed honey cakes stood proud in their little dishes, all stacked and assembled to resemble the magnificent Hampton Court. Their deallocatable smell filled the chamber and was more appreciated than any rose in the summer could have been.

Henry presided proudly over his court and admired their joviality. He may be old and decrepit, but he still knew how to throw a magnificent party. The sound of his courtier's laughter was like music to his ears. Especially that of his wife. Although she had the shapely body of a young woman, her voice was fey and her laugh was still childlike.

He regarded her fondly.

She was a picture of loveliness in a forest green gown, outshining the sparkling emerald broach that was pinned to her chest. Her luscious auburn locks were hanging loose and curled beneath a plain gold tiara. She did not need gaudy jewels to enhance her beauty although she still revelled in them. He had observed that every so often she would place her hand upon the emerald admiringly, all thoughts of the bejewelled rose necklace he had surprised her with were banished to the back of her mind now that this new jewel had captured her attentions.

She looked up at him and smiled sweetly from the dance floor, falling into a neat curtsey from her dance with Thomas Culpepper.

How she cherished these moments!

Henry beckoned her with a nod of his head and after exchanging pleasantries with Tom she hurried back to her husband with a swish of her dress skirts.

But as Henry watched her make her way back towards him, he startled!

A face.

A most terrible face, looking at him from within a crowd of laughing courtiers.

A deathly chill overcame him and he was sure that if he glanced down at the hay strewn floor beneath him that he would find himself in a chasm of burning embers, flames licking the walls and slowly engulfing the whole room around him.

There in the middle of the room, dressed in a gown of finest crimson damask (her favourite of course) stood the body of his second wife, Anne Boleyn. But she did not look how he imagined her to look. When he had nightmares about her at night, her face was always dirty and bruised, fresh from the scaffold that it had fell upon. Her lips were pale, her cheeks were smeared with blood.

Her own blood!

Strangely, he never imagined her as a headless corpse. Her body was always perfectly intact though battered and bloodied from her ordeal. Yet her ebony hair was always tied up in a chignon and placed under a starched white bonnet. That ebony hair that he adored so much. Even now he knew he was capable of falling head over heels in love with just because of that beautiful hair.

It was her crowning glory.

Thick, long and glossy. As dark as a raven's wing yet it also strangely possessed a deep auburn hue.

The body stood staring at him, a faint trace of a smile dancing on her lips as she observed him with those dark eyes that sparkled like jewels. She was regarding him carefully and Henry began to feel even more ashamed of himself. Anne was still young and beautiful whilst he was ageing and had grossly ballooned.

"Your Majesty?" Katherine roused him, curious as to what had caused the King's sudden daze.

"Can you see her?" Henry babbled, his finger pointing accusingly to the being before him.

"See who your Majesty?" she enquired, squinting her saucer-like eyes trying to decipher who the King was staring at. A tuft of jealousy overcame her and she privately wondered if he had developed a fancy for a new lady at court. Her eyes wandered around the room desperately trying to scope out her new rival.

"She's right there Katherine, look" he snapped, grabbing hold of her and squeezing her hand so tightly that it caused her to flinch in pain. She did her best not to shriek as his iron grip crushed her delicate fingers.

But as soon as he had called attention upon this phantom it began to laugh on the spot, as though it was amused at the trauma it was putting its' victim through. Then slowly she turned on her heel, her dark hair swaying in the breeze and mesmerising him further. Calmly and collectedly she walked through the flock of courtiers, her foot becoming faster with every step she took until finally she had immersed herself into the crowd completely and disappeared from his sight.

He blinked a few times to make sure his eyes were not deceiving him.

"I...I...Nevermind, I must have been mistaken" Henry admitted, slackening his grip on Katherine's hand.

Thankful at having her hand back, poor Katherine began nursing her injured fingers and made a spectacular show of injury to her ladies-in-waiting that night, milking all the attention she could now that she believed her husband had finally laid his hat on another woman's bed.

* * *

 _Later that night in the King's bed chamber..._

Henry was beside himself.

What had he just witnessed?

A ghost? A demon? Or had he finally gone mad?

He feared the latter more than anything else.

The guilt at killing Anne ate at him every day of his life.

He didn't regret killing her. It had to be done!

And he knew deep down in his heart it had been the best thing to do. She was getting too big for her boots and was universally despised at court. If he hadn't have done it, he would never have got to marry his sweet Jane. Dear sweet Jane who blessed him with his longed for son. Surely God had given him His blessing for the match by bestowing such a perfect, rosy cheeked son upon them.

But he knew that the accusations against Anne were false.

Slanderous.

Preposterous.

He tried to get the charge of incest dropped against her, for Elizabeth's sake as well as for common decency, but Cromwell had warned him against it.

"To change our story now means more public support for her" he had advised. And Henry dumbly allowed it.

He couldn't stomach looking at Elizabeth.

Even when Jane had tried to encourage a family reunion that Christmastime he could barely bring himself to look at her. The child whose mother he had killed. The child whose life had been turned upside down because of his own selfish actions.

The child who possessed her mother's bright onyx eyes. It killed him to look at her and be reminded of Anne.

"Anne, oh Anne, oh Anne" he wailed as he nursed his aching head in the crook of his elbow, "What have I done to receive such torturous visions as these?" he lamented.

 _Boom Boom Boom!_

He jumped, his head darting towards the direction where the noise had come from. It was a knock at the door. He let out a sigh of relief but was still fearful that the phantom was lurking behind the door, determined to scare him out of his wits. Do ghosts knock on doors?, he pondered.

Cautiously, he jumped up from off his plush cushioned chair and straightened himself up, ensuring his doublet was smooth and crease free.

"Enter" he commanded with all the authority of a King although his mind was ablaze with caution and fear.

The door swung open and in came Thomas Culpepper, who smiled kindly at his master as he fell into his gracefully masculine bow. Henry's heart felt immediately lighter.

Culpepper was a good boy, one of his favourites.

He reminded Henry of himself when he was younger. Tall, handsome and full of mischief. He was the perfect courtier when he needed to be. He charmed men with his quick wit and good humour, and charmed the ladies with his perfect smile and good manners. He had passion for cards, women and wine to match the King's and was an excellent huntsman. Just what Henry wanted in a companion!

"The Duke of Suffolk, your Majesty" he announced and made way for the Duke to enter his privy room with the young lady in question.

Although the woman's face was hidden by the hood of her cloak, Henry was already impressed by her tall, lithe figure and the long, honey coloured waves that peeked out from beneath the velvet fabric.

"Thank you Culpepper, that will be all" he dismissed.

"Your Majesty, may I introduce you to Lady Cecilia Roquefort, daughter of the Comte du Valency" Charles declared and the woman removed her hood to reveal an exquisitely pretty face. All that Charles had said about her proved true. In fact, Henry believed he had greatly undersold her virtues. She was easily one of the most beautiful women he had ever met, perhaps barring Bessie Blount.

The woman fell into low elegant curtsey and looked up at the King from beneath her long, thick eye lashes, a coquettish smile perched upon her lips.

Henry was instantly smitten.

"Lady Cecilia, you are most welcome" he greeted and offered her his hands to kiss before he raised her to her feet.

"I am honoured to meet you, Majesty. I have heard many stories of your greatness but none of them do you justice" she flattered and Henry was enamoured by her voice. It was low and light and musical. He inferred she must have inherited her tuneful tone from her Florentine mother for when she spoke it was almost as if she was singing a song. Yet she still retained a sultry French accent.

"Do you play cards, Lady Cecilia?" the King enquired, motioning for her to sit down at the small card table that stood in front of the window. The curtains had already been drawn for the evening.

"I am rather fond of Primero, your Majesty" she hinted, unfastening the clasp of her cloak and allowing Charles to remove it from her shoulders before she sat down with the King.

"She is deceptively good at it too" Charles warned. Henry couldn't help but grin at her like an idiot.

"Are you playing too, Charles?" he asked as he took out the deck of cards and gave them a good shuffle.

"I'm afraid not. She has robbed me off my fortune one time too many!" he declared with a good humoured chuckle that Henry and Cecilia reciprocated. "I think I shall retire for the night, with your permission of course" he enquired and Henry gave him his blessing.

But Cecilia was none too impressed.

"But your Grace" she protested in false outrage, "You cannot leave me unchaperoned. The King has an infamous reputation of virility and manhood, I fear I could not withhold the attentions of such a handsome man should the fancy take him " she stated and Henry couldn't help but exclaim a great raucous laugh at the girl's boldness. He admired her spirit, for she was every bit as lively as his Katherine was. But some how she seemed more composed and elegant as she did so. As though she was older than her years.

It was rather refreshing and Henry knew that this minx would give him a run for his money.


End file.
